


Connecting the Dots

by HopeStoryteller



Series: Cry for the World [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 1985), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gay, M/M, MacGyver and Nilanjana are mentioned, Please Read The Last Two Parts, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: A part of Carlos has always known, somehow, that he would return to Night Vale someday. It hadn’t occurred to him until now just what that might mean.It's been a long time since Carlos left Night Vale, under a different name. It's been so long, and yet in some ways he hasn't left yet. That's Night Vale for you, and it's good to be back. Even if the town no longer recognizes him. Even if he's more than a little terrified of what's to come after he returns to the day where he disappeared.Then again, it's one thing to know his name is Carlos, and he is a scientist, and it's another thing entirely to realize he'sthatCarlos the Scientist. Also, time travel is still illegal, which is aslightproblem.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: Cry for the World [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580779
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: Clever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions, Crossover Favorites





	Connecting the Dots

A part of Carlos has always known, somehow, that he would return to Night Vale someday. It hadn’t occurred to him until now just what that might mean.

He’d entertained the idea of paying his old family, or at least his younger self, a visit. Then he came to the conclusion that he could all too easily cause a paradox that way, and figured he’d maybe just give soon-to-be Intern Paolo some much needed reassurance if their paths ever crossed.

He’d also, briefly, considered visiting his old boss. He decided against that, too, at least until his past self disappears with Mac. Which won’t be for over a year.

Somehow, it hadn’t quite clicked when he and the other scientists from the Foundation’s team set up in a strangely familiar rented lab down the road from Big Rico’s Pizza. It had almost clicked, but still hadn’t quite, when he managed to call a town meeting to try and explain what their group was doing in Night Vale. It had come oh-so-close to clicking when Carlos saw his old boss for the first time.

In retrospect, Cecil’s panicked stammering and inability to get more than a few words out at a time makes  _ much _ more sense. Carlos might not be able to remember a lot about this particular day from the first time he lived through it, but he remembers one thing very,  _ very _ clearly.

_ “He grinned, and everything about him was perfect,” _ Cecil says on the radio, _ “and I fell in love instantly.” _

Carlos reacts completely reasonably, given the situation. He buries his head in his hands.

_ Why _ did his parents have to give him the middle name Carlos,  _ why _ did he have to choose to  _ go _ by that name after a severe case of temporal displacement, and  _ why _ did he have to come back to Night Vale? Minus the fact that it wasn’t exactly a secret in the Foundation that he was from here originally, of course. 

Just the circumstances of his leaving are a secret to most. And, in order to  _ keep _ that from causing a paradox, he needs to do things right. Based on what he remembers…

He opens his desk, pulls out a sheet of paper and a stick of thin charcoal. Shows the stick of charcoal to the window. The bush outside makes a dissatisfied noise, but otherwise does nothing, so Carlos is probably in the clear re: the ban on writing utensils.

Time travel is still illegal, currently. That’s a problem. As far as Carlos can recall, seeing the future is  _ not _ illegal however, so as long as the Secret Police think he’s some kind of oracle instead of a time traveler, he’ll be fine.

_ Things I know that happen, _ he writes in a messy scrawl as Cecil, in the background, says something about the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. He draws a line under his writing, dots a single bullet, and thinks.

Cecil’s crush isn’t going anywhere, he remembers that much. Something happens eventually, around a year from today, and whatever it is it does result in them eventually getting together. Which is… a very fun thing to think about. Carlos has known he wasn’t interested in women for a long time, and that sort of thing’s never been as big a deal here as it is in much of the world. He’s known his former boss was gay, too, or at the very least not straight. Because come on. Even without the waxing poetic about a certain scientist on radio, Cecil isn’t exactly subtle. Never has been.

It’s one thing to know all these things, and another entirely to come to the logical conclusion that he  _ is _ Carlos the Scientist, and at some point he’s going to wind up dating his former boss.

He really,  _ really _ needs a drink. But first order of business: figure out what has to happen, make sure it happens, don’t cause a paradox because the flow of time in Night Vale is strange enough already.

And maybe, just  _ maybe, _ he’ll figure out what his future self sees in Cecil Gershwin Palmer.

* * *

Carlos knows, currently, exactly three things.

One: he is shockingly not dead thanks to a combination of his own stupidity and a misguided if not inaccurate belief that since he was still alive as of the  _ end _ of this summer, he can’t die before his past self disappears.

Two: absolutely  _ everything _ hurts. He regrets everything about this situation. Well… almost everything about this situation.

Three: Cecil just completely broke down live on air, and would probably still be sobbing into his microphone if not for the pre-recorded announcement currently playing.

Someone has to tell Cecil he’s not dead. Except… Cecil will know, soon, won’t he? He always knows what’s happening almost as it happens. That’s just part of being the Voice of Night Vale, along with not aging since 1983, possibly earlier, and an extremely high intern mortality rate.

Speaking of interns: what the  _ hell _ was he doing today? June 15, 2013, hadn’t been anything special for Paolo. Somehow, apparently, he  _ missed this _ . Somehow, apparently, he missed Cecil… completely breaking.

Carlos has tuned into the show all his life, and that didn’t change when he went back in time. He has never,  _ once _ , heard something like this. Everything hurts, but it barely matters, he’ll live. He knows he’ll live. He just really, really wants to give Cecil a hug at the moment.

Is this what being in love feels like? It might be. Maybe Future Carlos was onto something. With that in mind, he rolls over enough to get at his phone, and types a message.

Before he can stop himself, he sends it. He doesn’t remember what else happens today. But… by now, he’s got a pretty good idea of what does. One year ago, he couldn’t have imagined how this could happen.

It’s funny how much a year can change you.

* * *

“I don’t think this is working,” Carlos says.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Cecil agrees. “Maybe we need more chanting.”

Carlos eyes his phone apprehensively. It’s currently lying in a pile of rice, surrounded by a makeshift bloodstone circle, and it’s not responding to any attempts to bring it back.

“Maybe we need more rice. I’ll ask Nilanjana if she has some I can borrow. Well, use.” He reaches for his back pocket, only to remember why he needs to text his colleague about the rice in the first place and grin sheepishly. “Um… Cece, can I borrow your phone?”

“Keep it away from any dihydrogen monoxide!”

He hands it over. Carlos taps out a quick text to the one number outside his own he has memorized, adds a second identifying himself just to be safe, and sets it on the counter well away from any spills.

“So,” Carlos begins, slightly hesitant.

“So?” Cecil looks pointedly at him. “You have that look on your face like you want to say something but don’t quite know the words to use.”

“You got me there.”

How, exactly, can he go about explaining this? Does he  _ want _ to explain this? Maybe it’ll be better if he doesn’t, if Intern Paolo is forgotten. He’d originally planned to bring it up with Cecil once Paolo was gone, but… now, he’s not so sure.

“You lost another intern today,” Carlos says eventually, and has to physically hold back from smacking himself.

“I try not to think about it myself,” Cecil says with a wince. His phone beeps. He glances at the screen. “Nilanjana says she’s at the store now. She’ll be here in twenty minutes. In the meantime, more chanting?”

“In a moment. If I don’t bring this up now, I never will.”

Cecil sets down the phone. “Carlos… what is this about?”

“The man you were talking about on the radio, MacGyver? I’m not entirely sure how he found me, specifically, but we’re… coworkers. Sort of.” Carlos clears his throat and hastily adds, “I came here to do research for the vague yet menacing government agency. It’s actually called the Phoenix Foundation, they’re really not vague  _ or _ menacing although I can see why they come across that way!”

“You already… knew him?” A nod. “You already knew he was  _ dangerous? _ ”

“I know him in the present day, believe me, he’s only dangerous if he feels he has to be and he certainly didn’t here. He doesn’t live  _ too _ far away from here, currently, he’s retired, I can introduce you sometime.” Carlos takes a deep breath, lets it out. “You’re more concerned about him than about Phoenix?”

“That was going to be my next question, yes. I would ask why didn’t you tell me, but then again, I didn’t ask, did I?”

“No, not really. But that’s… not. Exactly. Why I needed to talk to you. It’s part of it, but not all of it.”

Cecil raises an eyebrow. “I’m all ears. Not literally, obviously, it would be rather difficult to do many things such as my job if I was. Or breathing. That’s fairly important too.”

“I was seventeen when I met Mac for the first time. I was… working on an assignment for my boss at a place I was interning at, and I wound up leaving with him. I didn’t plan on it being permanent, it wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be permanent, but suddenly I couldn’t go back. I lost everything that night, Cece. But I found a new family in Phoenix, and honestly it was better than the one I left behind. But… I couldn’t forget the place I’d left behind, or the people.”

Carlos hesitates briefly, then lets it spill out all in one breath. “I couldn’t forget Night Vale.”

“You’re from Night Vale? I thought—” Cecil stops himself, gains a thoughtful expression. “Wait. That explains how you knew how to listen to my show, and how you knew about the secret police’s ban on writing utensils,  _ and _ the secret police, and you’ve taken a lot of things… shockingly well, actually. But…”

“But?”

“But I would have known you, if you were from Night Vale.”

“You did.” Carlos reaches out, takes Cecil’s hand in his. “Carlos is… actually my middle name. I did get it legally changed after I left, but all I did there was switch around my first and middle names so it wouldn’t cause any confusion with legal records once I came back.”

“Why would it…”

“I would ask if the name Paolo means anything to you, but…” Carlos too trails off. In lieu of anything he can think to say, he just gives Cecil’s hand a squeeze.

“Oh,” Cecil says, softly. 

_ “Oh,” _ he says again, even quieter. “You’re…”

“Yeah,” Carlos says. “That’s me. If you were wondering, we did both return to Mac’s native time. 1983. And then we might have accidentally contributed to the destruction of Nulogorsk? I’m still not completely clear on whether that would have happened anyway.”

Cecil doesn’t speak for a long moment, which socially speaking is generally a bad sign. But he doesn’t pull away either, which socially speaking is probably a good sign.

“You know,” he says at last, “when I thought you were hiding something, I was expecting something more… I don’t know, glamorous. Like secretly having mafia connections to the sewer alligators of New York.”

“I can assure you that I have no mafia connections of any kind, and they aren’t to the sewer alligators of New York. Just a boring old scientist working for a vague yet menacing government agency to study Night Vale.”

In the end, they don’t manage to resuscitate the phone, but maybe that’s okay. Carlos can get a new phone. And, for the first time in thirty years, he has no idea what the future will bring. For a long time he was terrified of when today came again.

With Cecil, he’s excited to find out what tomorrow will bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I see I'm still continuing my trend of writing fic as a gift. You can't stop me. Nobody can stop me. And I don't think you want to. <3


End file.
